


A Summoner Lost, A Savior Found

by Mayamelissa



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, Final Fantasy X, Final Fantasy X & Final Fantasy X-2
Genre: A whole lot of head canon, Arguements about Magic, Everything Hurts, Gen, I don't regret it at all, I got attacked by plot bunnies, I have issues, I made another original female inquisitor, I only regret I let this out instead of working on my other stories, I'll post pictures as references, I'm terrible at tagging, More tags to be added, Spira, and I don't want to do this anymore, no, sin - Freeform, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-07-12 18:06:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7116922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mayamelissa/pseuds/Mayamelissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I am insane and wanted an OC from Final Fantasy X/X-2 to end up as Inquisitor because I love the magic in the FF series and that FFX is my favorite Final Fantasy game of all time. There is a lot of head canon going on in this bitch so please forgive me. If you've read my stuff before you know it's gonna get weird and lovely and all sorts of things.</p>
<p>Betad by SilentSlayer.</p>
<p>Also I don't know who if anyone is gonna get all bow chicka wow wow up in this fic. The Mature rating is because of language and mature content like getting really drunk. A lot.</p>
<p>Also anything that was released after of X-2 + last mission does not exist no matter what they want you to believe. Tidus and Yuna got married after his return to Spira and lived happily ever after. UNDERSTAND?!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was amazing how everyone was so quick to ignore her pain and tell her to move on.

As if she hadn’t spent every year since she was ten years old training to become a summoner and bring the Calm. How _she_ had sweated and toiled and prayed so hard to receive each of her Aeons. Aeons that had been practically torn for her soul at that… _woman’s_ quest to kill Sin once and for all.

What the hell good did an Eternal Calm do if you’ve accepted you were going to die for so long, but then have your destiny ripped from you by some spoiled little princess who radiated goodness so much you wanted to peel her skin off and vomit into her eye sockets? That so many people seemed to admire one minute, call for her head the next, then once again sing her praises?

Oh Tyra knew she was bitter. The almost completely dead logical part of her brain often reminded her that it wasn’t even the High Summoner and twice savior of Spira’s fault that the former summoner suffered so much.

But she needed someone to blame, even as she indulged in another round of self destructive behavior. And what she was about to do was absolutely destructive.

The guado who’d been guarding the entrance to the Farplane had been easy enough to deal with. A good sleep spell and they were out like lights. The amount of pyreflies buzzing around was insane and she was sure if she kept her mouth open long enough more than one would accidentally buzz in.

She made her way up to sit on the observation platform inside the dome. The last time she’d come here it was before Sin had been defeated and the entirety of Spira were celebrating their asses off. Well all of them except for her. _She_ had been screaming at the glass covering the inert statue of the Faythe in Macalania, bashing her fists against the dome like a crazed lunatic until her hands bled.

She wished she’d died in the temple as it fell into the lake. It would have been a kinder fate than living as she was now. Or if you could even call it a life. Killing fiends for enough coin to make sure she didn’t starve, or sleeping every night outside because inns no longer were paid for by the temples so now she had no real safe place to rest her head unless she got enough successful kills in during her wanderings. Yeah, that was her life now.

Her guardians had abandoned her long ago. Particularly when she was at Zanarkand. They found out one of them were going to have to pretty much die in order to become the Final Summoning. How funny they’d suddenly gone from bad ass warriors and trusted guardians to snivelling children faced with their own mortality.

“We didn’t sign up for that part!”

“I thought we would get to live like kings after this was over! How the hell am I supposed to enjoy life if I’m turned into Sin?!”

“Listen,Tyra: as much as I’ve come to care about you, I can’t do it. I still have dreams of having a family!”

And thus they had abandoned her in the City of the Dead; left to fend for herself. She’d never been happier to know black and white magic that day. Her lips twisted into a satisfied smile at the memories of them dying. She’d crushed Tora’s blackened skull beneath her boot afterwards. “Enjoy your dreams,” she’d cursed before sending their souls. It was his betrayal that had hurt most after all - so she had made his death the most painful.

She’d actually believed him. All those sweet kisses and tender embraces on their journey. How he had looked at her: an expression that was sad but still proud. She should have never opened herself up to him; let him between her legs and in her bed all those nights. It was as they were leaving and she watched him put his arm around Kiba in such a loving manner that she’d realized it had all been pity.

Pity for the poor orphan girl who was trying to become High Summoner so she was actually loved and remembered for something good. Pity for the lonely woman who had more than once been taken advantage of by the priests of the temples she’d received her training at because Yevon demanded her obedience in all things. Even if it were his priests making sexual demands of her that they preached as morally contemptible while more than one of the would sneak into her chambers at night and fuck her until she was raw and sore the next morning; her bed stained with evidence of joinings that she had to wash in secret so no one knew.

She took a long draw from the wine bottle, swallowing it after a few moments. The wine tasted like shoopuf urine, but it did it’s job of making her feel something other than that constant knot of hollowed out pain where she was certain she’d once had a soul. It was that same place that her aeons had been wrenched from her when High Summoner Yuna used them to defeat the lie that was Yu Yevon.

Another swig and she turned her grey blue eyes out to look past the barrier of the observation platform. _What’s the fucking point of it all?_ her mind questioned. Not the first time she’d asked herself that, and Tyra ran her hand through the un-braided side of her apple red hair. She’d thought maybe she’d get some answers if she came out here. Find something. But no. She still felt hollow and sick and just wanted it all to end.

There was no place for a former summoner like her. She lacked any kind of bedside manner or empathy to make a go of being a healer with her own little practise. She didn’t trust people anymore and despite what everyone said and the more logical side of her knew, she still contained a deep seated hatred for the Al Bhed. One of the few bits of her following the teachings still remaining.

She practically chugged the last bit of her alcohol down, feeling the good buzz finally kicking in.

Later on she would wonder if it was that buzz in question which had been the defining factor in her finally taking a dive jump off the platform.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mainly dedicated to the-queen-of-thedas because she's been a very patient person.

She is in pain.

Of course she is. She jumped off the observation platform in the Farplane in Guadosalam. A throbbing pain in her skull coupled with sluggish senses was the least amount of suffering she should be feeling. Tyra let out a dry chuckle before shivering and pulling her arms closer towards her. The clinking of metal and the extra weight upon her wrists finally got her to open her eyes. She was in a dark place of iron and stone and she was in chains.

Through drink addled mind she took notice that her hand was glowing as a spark of energy burst out and she gasped, more in shock than pain.

Then she noted the soldiers in the room, all with swords pointed directly at her.

She didn’t have time to analyze much more before a door flung open and in walked two women. And though they both looked rather unpleasant, the one who approached her first looked like she wanted to kill her.

“Tell me why we shouldn’t kill you now?” she demanded to know in an accent Tyra had never heard before. Her mind sluggishly processed what the woman in light armor said as she mentioned people dead, some kind of Conclave destroyed, and Tyra being the only survivor. The ex-summoner shook her head. “What do you mean everyone is dead?” she asked. None of this made any sense and it made less sense as time crawled on.

She nearly let loose a lightening bolt on the aggressive brunette interrogating her but her companion pulled her away. “We need her, Cassandra,” said the woman who bore a different yet still unfamiliar accent. Tyra sighed. “Whatever you think I’ve done, I’m innocent,” she snapped. What inebriation she’d had left in her was gone and her head felt as if it had been used for Blitzball practise.

“What do you remember?” the other woman asked her. Tyra shrugged as she attempted to piece together her fragmented memories. “Getting drunk off some low quality swill I picked up at the Moonflow while sitting on the observation platform in the Farplane,” she told them. “I heard the guards yelling and started to approach so in my drunken state I decided to escape... or commit suicide depending on how you look at it. I jumped off the side and woke up here with a massive hangover. Anyhow I know the place was off limits but you know what? It was the only place I could go. You people and your fucking eternal calm can go fly a fucking kite! What the hell are summoners like me supposed to do? I’m sick of your damned society telling me I should move on with my life. Well you know what? I can’t! These last two years since Lady Yuna,” she spat the woman’s name out wit a face scrunched with disgust, “ripped the aeons out of me in order to end Spira’s suffering. So yeah, I gave in to the urge to kill myself by jumping into the abyss of the Farplane. Whoop De frigging do! Given the fact I don’t see a single Guado around here makes me wonder where I am… Who are you people?!”

Her question remained unanswered as the woman called Cassandra told her companion to go to the forward camp and that she would take Tyra to the rift. She went to unlock Tyra’s chains but the former summoner yanked away. “You aren’t taking me anywhere until you explain what’s going on!” Tyra declared.

Cassandra gave her a harsh look as she grabbed the iron bar. “It will be easier to show you,” she said and the hint of pain in her voice caused Tyra to stop. Her wrists were bound in rope and she was led out of what apparently was actually a dungeon, up some stairs, through some kind of hall and outside.

Once the door opened and she stepped outside she had to shield her eyes as pain hit her from the sudden transition. When it abated she looked to the sky and…

In her travels all across Spira, Tyra had seen many horrible things. Marlboros, Greater Marlboros, the Spectral Keeper, Dark Flans. But very little, she decided looking up at the green swirling hole in the sky, very little could compare to _that_.


	3. Chapter 3

This place was absolutely ridiculous and she was in no way shape or form sober enough to deal with it. It also did not help that Dragonhorn was missing and she was forced to resort to a double cast of thundara magic to deal with the two quote unquote demons who rose out of the ice.

Cassandra was not as grateful as she should have been in Tyra’s opinion. In fact, the woman seemed down right shocked.

“You are a mage?!” she asked in shock. Or maybe it was horror? Tyra didn’t really care as she was horrible at reading people anyhow. “I know white and black magic, yes,” she replied impatiently. “How that is so surprising to you is beyond me.”

“I did not sense any lyrium in your veins,” the Seeker stated, eyes looking her companion over suspiciously. “It is something I should have been able to.”

What the fuck was lyrium? Tyra shook her head. There wasn’t time to ask as Cassandra handed her some potions and told her to grab a weapon from the pile near a splintered crate which had fallen down onto the frozen riverbed with them. “You will need to preserve your mana as much as possible,” Cassandra told her.

Something Tyra was very certain wouldn’t be necessary if they had given her back her belongings before sending her off on this lovely trek through frozen snow and bodies. And why were there so many people just lying about when a simple casting of Life or Full Life could get them back to their feet? She had at least 20 Pheonix Downs in her belt before her little dive bomb into the Farplane and there was no way they were damaged.

She grabbed a pair of daggers from the weapon cache and felt Cassandra’s eyes staring at her. “What? You said grab a weapon,” Tyra said.

“I would have assumed you would take the staff since you are a mage,” the warrior stated. Tyra gave off a disgusted sigh. “When I was training to become a summoner, I learned to fight with many different weapons,” Tyra explained. “But since I haven’t got my Dragonhorn then I would prefer to use daggers.”

“You fight with a dragon’s horn?” Cassandra asked confused and Tyra rolled her eyes. “Not a dragon’s horn, Dragonhorn. It’s my dual blade staff that no doubt you people took off me like you did my item belt.”

“We found no weapon on you when you stepped out of the rift,” Cassandra informed her as they continued on. The seemingly permanent scowl on her face seemed to get a little deeper as Tyra would easily dispatch enemies before them with low level spells. Something Tyra felt strangely amused by. “Is there a problem?” the redhead questioned, not letting her amusement be hidden.

“You obviously don’t care about preserving your mana,” came the accented reply and Tyra scoffed, “It’s quicker if I kill them like this. You said we were in a hurry?”

“Yes, however most mages need a staff to properly hit their enemies.”

Tyra rolled her eyes. “Then they must be shit mages,” she retorted and they came to their destination. More fiends or demons or whatever they were being called spit out through the crystalline formation hanging in mid-air. Tyra watched as the soldiers fought alongside what possibly was a mage and a very short man firing a crossbow that no doubt would have gotten him banned by the teachings several times over before Sin had been defeated.

The enemies were easily dealt with once again via low level spells but then the mage with rather large and pointed ears grabbed her marked hand, shouting, “Quickly! Before more come through!” He held it upwards towards the rift and she felt something transfer between them. Something very  _ wrong _ that prodded her own magic making her stomach curl with nausea as the rift knitted together and then explode closed in a shower of slime.

She wrenched her hand away and looked at the man. Medium height, fair skin with a sprinkling of freckles upon his face. He wore simple clothes that gave him an unassuming and easily looked over appearance. Blue eyes stared back at her brown ones and she recognized a look in them. It was the same look those priests in the temples had wore when she was young and easy to manipulate and didn’t think she actually had it in her to be a summoner. They gave whoever this was gave her the same sense of purpose within him as the Lord Maester Mika had.

Tyra swallowed the bile down and asked him, “What did you do?”

“I did nothing,” he said, his voice too smooth for her liking. “The credit is yours.”

_ Liar _ , a voice inside her head screamed.  _ He lies to you. _ “I... see,” the redhead replied (whether to the voice or the man she was unsure). She tightened her afflicted hand into a fist and let it hang to her side.

“Whatever magic caused the Breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand,” the stranger explained. “I had hypothesized that it could be used to seal the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake. And it would seem I was correct.” 

“Meaning it could also seal the Breach itself,” Cassandra stated, walking up to stand beside Tyra. The mystery man nod his head slightly. “Perhaps,” he said, looking over Tyra in a studious sort of way. “It would seem you hold the key to our salvation.”

She would have laughed if the idea that she was some sort of hero didn’t leave her utterly bereft of a response but eyes wide open in incredulousness. Her? A key of salvation? No. She’d tried being a beacon of hope and attempted to give salvation to people and what had happened? Used and betrayed, that was what. Left to fend for herself after everything she’d known and lived for was ripped from her. A broken former summoner who’d spent more than her share of nights outside or drunk because she had nothing left to live for.

“Good to know,” a voice piped up before she could tell them where to stick their hope. “And here I thought we’d be ass deep in demons forever.” The man wielding the crossbow from earlier approached them and introduced himself. “Varric Tethras. Rogue, storyteller, and occasionally: unwelcome tagalong.” He winked at Cassandra who gave a made a disgusted noise.

There was probably a good story behind that. Maybe if she survived, she could find it out over drinks. A lot of drinks.

Yevon help her she needed a drink.

“So, I closed the rift. What now?” Tyra asked Cassandra, impatient to get going.

“Now we head to the forwards camp to meet Leliana,” the other woman informed her. Varric grinned. “What a great idea!” he declared much to the obvious displeasure of Cassandra. However his logic won the argument and Cassandra ultimately caved in. The other male spoke, “My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I am pleased you still live.”

“He means,” Varric stated, “I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.”

She didn’t know when all this was said and done if that was worth it but she thanked him anyhow, despite the hissing little voice in her head warning her against him. They moved on towards the camp with Varric asking her questions about her accent. “I grew up in the temple of Bevelle, capital city of Spira,” she informed him. “I can’t even begin to guess how far this place is from there.”

“Judging from your outfit, I’d say pretty damn far,” Varric observed. “I mean, you’re dressed pretty lightly for this weather. How are you not freezing?”

Tyra couldn’t help but let loose a laugh. “This place might be chilly but it’s nothing compared to the cold of Mount Gagazet,” she said. “And the fiends here are much easier to deal with.” She finished off the group of enemies that appeared before them with a quick multi-cast of Thunder.

“You have remarkable skill in regards to your magic,” Solas complimented. “It’s rare to see someone with the amount of control you exert.”

“Years of practise and a pilgrimage across Spira to defeat Sin will do that,” Tyra said. “Although with the Eternal Calm, most of my time is spent fighting fiends to get enough coin to have a room for the night and food in my stomach.”

“What’s the Eternal Calm?” Varric asked as they headed up the hill towards the forward camp.

Was he joking? Or worse yet: how far from Spira was she that no one knew what the Eternal Calm was? There went her hope something like Sin had appeared and done this. Maybe it still could be. After all they didn’t really know what had caused the explosion. Maybe whatever this Conclave had been secretly attracted a slumbering Sinspawn that went mad and…

Tyra shook her head. She was sounding like some hopeful lunatic when clearly nothing in this place fell into her line of experiences. “Just never mind. It doesn’t matter anyhow,” she said dismissively but took note her companions were staring at her. “I’m sobering up too much for this shoopuff-shit.”


	4. Chapter 4

She was too sober to deal with clergymen who were so overwhelmed with the situation at hand they lobbed accusations at her like snowballs.

She was certainly too sober to deal with climbing rickety ladders leading into mining complexes filled with enemies.

She was  _ definitely _ too sober to think about this gooey shit that was coating her weapons and getting in her hair. It smelled like a mild case of a Marlboro’s Bad breath attack, giving her a horrific need to vomit. Thankfully her clothes were self cleaning otherwise she’d be covered it this… whatever it was and be forced to throw them away. It probably stained like a nightmare.

The only reason she hadn’t been using her magic to easily dispatch the foes in their way was due to the questions or looks sent her way. The final straw being the conversation near the supposedly dead scouts’ bodies near the exit to the mines. A simple Life spell would have the back on their feet very much alive and well in no time and she still would have enough mana to spare. But she was stopped mid cast by Cassandra who looked like she wanted to punch her.

“What are you doing?” Cassandra demanded, grabbing Tyra’s wrist. Tyra looked at her incredulously. “Obviously, I’m reviving them. I have plenty of mana and the spell won’t-”

“We do not have time for necromancy. Leave them to rest in peace.”

Necromancy? Leave them to rest in peace? Was she serious?! Tyra’s emerald green eyes looked at the woman confused. “And leave them to rot in the snow? The longer they lay like that then the more at risk they will be until your healers come to revive them! Trust me they’ll recover faster if you just-”

“Leave. Them. Be.”

Cassandra’s grip tightened even harder and Tyra let out a gasp of pain before Cassandra let her go with a quick jerk. “We need to hurry,” she declared and walked away, leaving Tyra to hold her wrist gently as she cast a cure on the area. So now she just wasn’t going to use her magic at all and let Cassandra and the rest of her cronies suffer without her skills. Bitch could rot for all she cared.

Tyra also took it as reminder no good deed of hers ever went unpunished and trying to help anyone but herself was a waste of time. Wherever she was, whatever this place was, she would no doubt get the short end of the stick somehow. She didn’t really pay attention to what anyone said after the whole incident with Cassandra, barely listening to the Seeker’s explanation of how they found Tyra as they made they’re way toward the center of the Temple.

Maybe it was the destruction around her or the bodies locked in poses of pain with flames still burning on their skin that caused the hard resurgent feeling of loss in regards to her Aeons to hit her in the gut. Memories of her time in Zanarkand to come haunting to the surface. Varric walked up beside her. “You okay? You’ve gone kind of pale,” he observed.

“I’m fine,” she said, a little too quick and sharp to be believable. “Just really need to get drunk after this is over.”

“You and me both,” he agreed. “You close the Breach and I’ll happily join you in getting shit faced.”

She let out a hollow laugh. “Yeah that’s real incentive,” she said sarcastically. He grinned at her. “I happen to be excellent company in several tavern related activities,” he said in a light hearted way. “Including Diamondback and Wicked Grace.”

“Don’t have a clue what those are,” Tyra said. Varric grinned even more. “Well then I’ll have to teach you once this mess is over,” he promised.

“Yeah, sure. Okay,” she said. She didn’t really expect him to keep his word or have much to do with her after this was over since she was still apparently guilty and more than likely going to get railroaded or used as a scapegoat after this was done. If she even could seal the Breach.

Why the hell was she even doing this again? she asked herself. She wasn’t a hero and she’d stop caring about whether people lived or died after Tora and the others betrayal. The last few chunks of affection for her fellow man died during that bar fight in Luca that she still didn’t remember too much of after getting beamed across the head by some lucky wanker with a bottle. She’d said more than few unkind words about the High Summoner, most of them out of spite and a seething feeling of loss for her aeons being stolen from her. So what? None of those hypocrites would be singing Yuna’s praises had she and her guardians failed, would they? They wouldn’t have been so quick to throw a punch in her direction if it was still that time when all of Spira thought she and her group were Maester Kinoch’s murderers or they were still wanted fugitives.

But fat chance those pathetic snivelling twats would own up to that anymore than they were willing to just let her say her rant unbothered. Then she’d been left bleeding on the bar floor before she was gracelessly tossed out on the street like yesterday’s trash. Good people of Spira her ass. She’d been ready to die for them! Give her life to bring them hope and a few years of calm!

Her hand absentmindedly ran over the very nasty scar that was visible between the cornrowed braids on the side of her head. No one had helped her get to the safe sphere at the top of the stairs leading to the Mihen Highroad. She’d crawled and dragged her dying ass up those stone steps and touched the blue recovery orb before she passed on. No one assisting her. She’d seen and heard people walking close by her so no one will ever convince her she wasn’t visible. There’s always at least one guard on patrol in each area, no matter the time.

So in her heart, whatever was left of it, she didn’t care about people anymore. People were full of shit. No one cared about her and promises made were going to be broken the first chance they got.

_ And yet you still wanted to revive those scouts, _ a voice inside reminded her.  _ You still cared enough to try to help. _

A moment of weakness brought on by extenuating circumstances that she wouldn't be repeating again. After all, this Seeker Cassandra nearly broke her wrist. Tyra was always good at learning from pain.


	5. Chapter 5

Maybe she should rethink the whole not using magic from now on idea, Tyra mused as she stared up at the towering fiend that came out of the rift she’d been tricked into reopening so they could quote “seal it properly”.

The thing was the size of Bahamut, ugly as any Sinspawn she’d seen during her pilgrimage, tossing and whipping about lightning at everyone, and fucking shielded so hard it would take a casting of Armor Break to get through. But apparently no one knew armor break except her, and these daggers weren’t appropriate for the task.

How the hell did these people survive dealing with Sin all these years?!

And why the fuck wasn’t Solas casting NulShock?!

Fuck these people. Fuck this place. And fuck whoever took Dragonhorn and her item belt! The only part of her equipment she still possessed at this moment was her customized bracers. Tyra had always known placing all four elemental eaters on a bracer had been a brilliant choice. To think someone had once almost convinced her not to have it as an ability. This was also the same moron who said it wasn’t necessary for her to wear customized bracers on both arms as well as her legs.

“Use the mark and disrupt the rift,” Solas shouted or rather ordered Tyra as the Pride Demon (who ever came up with that name?) fired off a giant orb of electrical energy. “It should strip the creature’s defenses.”

“Shouldn’t you be casting NulShock on the others?” Tyra shot back irritatedly. “Your staff isn’t doing any damage to the creature! Watch your head!”

A piece of broken stone work was knocked loose by the Pride Demon’s attack and Tyra pulled Solas out of the way before it fell on him, noting she ripped the stitches on the shoulder of his shirt by accident. Oh well. He was head injury free, the trade off was fine. “I do not understand what a NulShock is!” Solas declared, getting back to his feet.

Was he _fucking kidding_ her?!

He knew Barrier but he didn’t know NulShock?!

“Who the fuck taught you magic: a potato?!” Tyra shouted in horror. “How do you know Barrier but not a first level element nullification spell?!”

She didn’t hear his retort as the force from one of the creature’s lightning whips knocked the two of them clean off their feet and into a hunk of fallen stone work. Tyra groaned in pain and shook her head to clear it, looking over to see if Solas was okay.

He wasn’t moving and she went to see if he was dead or just knocked out. If he was dead she could use a life spell on him. But being knocked out meant she would need a Phoenix Down. Tyra let out a few choice words after scanning him. Knocked out it was. Great! The one willing magic user around and he was currently napping while-

Green eyes spotted something poking out of the ground. Something very familiar and large and she forgot everything else around her. “Oh please!” she begged and rushed over to the item. Oh please let this be what she thought it was.

Oh thank the Fayth!

Dragonhorn!

“My Baby!” she shouted happily, tossing the daggers in her hands aside and grabbing the dual blade staff. She frowned as she tried to pull it from where it was stuck, the weapon jammed tight in the wall. The battle in the background was forgotten at the moment as she was more worried about retrieving her precious item. “Come on, you beautiful piece of shit! Come to Tyra!”

She grunted, feeling it slowly giving way under her attempts. She planted her foot against the wall and gave a final cry of exertion. It came loose but also slipped out of her hands as she fell backwards, flying behind her and impaling two Shades which had apparently been sneaking up on her.

“I’ve seen some crazy luck in my time but that’s some of the craziest!” she heard Varric shout.

“Thanks! I try!” Tyra snapped back with a grin rushing over and pulling her weapon out of the dissolving corpses.  Varric rolled out of the way and rushed to take cover behind a piece of stone. “Nice weapon,” he complimented, his voice raised so she could hear him over the chaos and shots fired from Bianca. “You know how to use it?”

“I should: I made it!” the redhead called. Her hands lovingly gripped the familiar shaft and she felt a little more whole and secure since this whole mess started. “If you got a Pheonix Down, use it on Solas! He’s K.O.d!” she instructed before casting Haste on herself and then Armor Break, becoming a flash of action as she used her dual staff to whittle the overgrown cragfest down, taking out any other monsters that spilled from the rift at the same time.

Finally it was down completely and Cassandra ordered her to seal the rift. Exhaustion finally creeping in, Tyra raised her hand up and let the mark send a tendril of magic out that looped back into her hand after taking hold of something in the rift. It was hard - harder than the others perhaps because of it’s size or perhaps it was the first rift to form. Either way, it took whatever she had left inside to finish closing the monstrosity, losing consciousness as an explosion of green surrounded her.

****

She could hear the sweet sounds of the Hymn. It was all around her, cradling her body like the softest blankets she’d ever felt. Oh how she had missed that tune! Ever since they’d gone and the Eternal Calm had come no one sang it. The fayth’s chambers which had still been in tact after the final battle were bereft of it. Very few things had given her peace as the Hymn of the Fayth.

She wondered if she was dead.

A boy’s gentle laugh echoed. “Oh I wouldn’t count yourself out yet,” a voice said cheerfully. “You’ve never been one to give up that easily.” That was a voice she had not heard in years. It had belonged to the fayth which had given her Bahamut. She opened her eyes, finding herself laying in a field of flowers, the waterfall of the Farplane’s Abyss in the background. “Finally awake,” the boy stated. She sat up and looked around in shock, focusing on him. He looked the same - of course he did, she quickly chastised herself.

“You’re-”

“You’ve been busy,” he said and went over to her. He held out his hands and she took it getting to her feet. “We don’t have much time for a reunion.”

“I don’t… understand. How-”

“It’s hard to explain,” he interrupted. “But we could still feel you. You never were completely alone, y’know.”

“I couldn’t summon any of you. Couldn’t hear your voices anymore. After everything I went through do you really think I believe that?” she asked. A bitter feeling in her heart welled up and she heard him sigh. “We were so tired, Tyra. The dream had been going on for so long. We’re sorry.”

“We knew you were in pain,” a second voice, that of a female child, spoke up. “But we couldn’t do anything to help.” Tyra turned to look in the voice’s direction. “Valefor,” Tyra said in awe, looking at the female fayth. Valefor nodded and curtsied. “Hello,” it greeted.

“Like she said, we could sense you were in pain,” Bahamut informed Tyra. “And when you jumped… well- we couldn’t just let you die. You always were special.”

“Yeah I’m a unique little snowflake,” Tyra retorted, feeling instant regret. “Sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“Just a little,” Valefor said. “We never said goodbye or told you it would be okay. We just left.”

“Well it’s not like no one explained afterwards,” Tyra stated, the sharp edge to her voice uncontrollable. “High Summoner Yuna made sure to tell everyone exactly what lies we’d been forced to swallow for the last thousand years. It was… quite a story to take in. Easier for some than others.”

To be honest, she still didn’t know how much rage at the betrayal by a religion she’d followed and obeyed unwaveringly for her whole life still burned in her veins. The betrayal by Tora had been followed by near execution from temple guards after she had returned to Bevelle and begged Maesters Kinoch and Mika to help her. They’d seemed so helpful that day. Had her taken to a room to wait while they “worked on finding a solution for her.”

“We’ll send someone to get you once we’re finished discussing the matter, Summoner Tyra,” Kinoch had claimed. “Don’t you worry.”

“Dry your eyes, Child,” Mika had told her gently. “Yevon will provide where your guardians have failed. Stay here and be calm.”

“Thank you, My Lords,” she said, sniffling. “I knew coming here was the right thing to do.”

Tyra had believed in them. Though now as she looked back, she could see Kinoch’s smirk as he closed the door. Ignored the small voice in her head saying this had been a bad idea. She had waited patiently for the High Priests to come back. And her reward for waiting was a group of Crusaders entering and shooting her. She fell backwards onto the floor as the leader  had announced she had been branded a traitor of Yevon and was to be executed immediately.

“If it wasn’t for you, I’d be dead,” Tyra said to Bahamut. “You answered my summons and killed them before they could finish me off. No matter how angry I am, I’ll always be thankful for that. I should have died that day.”

“You didn’t know,” Valefor insisted. “You still believed. You’re still a good person, Tyra. You still want to help people.”

“Not anymore,” the redhead said, running her hand over her face to deal with the sting of tears in her eyes. “And especially not people like this Cassandra Pentaghast. Did you see her almost break my wrist?! Those people probably weren’t even collected and revived! And she accused me of necromancy! Because I wanted to use a Life spell to bring back people who clearly could return?”

“This place is different than Spira. They don’t understand and don’t have the talents that you do. You can change that.”

“I don’t want to change that. Everytime I help people it blows up in my face. And I don’t have you anymore to help make it better.”

She wrapped her arms around her waist. She felt a hand, warm and soft on her arm. “We’re still here and waiting,” Valefor said. “All you have to do is call and we will answer.”

“Call us, Tyra,” Bahamut stated and behind him Tyra could see the fayth forms of the other aeons as well as some she did not know. “Call to us and we will come.”

She opened her mouth to ask what they meant since she’d called to them so many times and they had never answered, but a pulling feel on her mind caught her attention.

 

\--------------

In case anyone was wondering:

Dragonhorn!

I liked the weapons in FFXIII and a dual-blade weapon is just cool. Not as cool as say tonfas but really cool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I mentioned head canon in the tags? Yeah... the whole Phoenix Down for unconsciousness and Life for being dead is one of those things. If it doesn't make sense well that's because you're sane and I'm not.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What the fuck is a Mabari?

Well if she was still a prisoner, then at least her new cell was far nicer than her previous ones. After getting few answers from a very fidgeting nervous girl with large ears like Solas who told her Lady Cassandra needed to see her in the Chantry, Tyra looked for Dragonhorn and her clothes. Both were missing and she growled.

While she had been out cold, they’d dressed her in some kind of beige/brown pajama number that once she got in front of a mirror she could confirm how horrible it looked on her. It was stifling and made out of some kind of cloth she wasn’t familiar with.

At least it didn’t itch like her initiate robes had from her training days. Yevon help her, that had been horrible! The itching had led to welts and blisters that she’d had to learn to treat herself since complaints were made about how often she’d needed healing at the day’s end. “We must all appear equal in the eyes of Yevon, Initiate,” one of the clerics had told her when she’d asked for different ones or ones made of another material.

Tyra often wondered how big a fool she’d been to just sit there and endure that. “One of the biggest fools in Spira,” she murmured aloud and glanced down at her hand. It still glowed but had indeed stopped growing. It annoyed her to no end though, and she debated how feasible it would be to live without two hands.

No, she needed two hands to wield Dragonhorn properly.

Amputation was definitely not an option.

Pity.

She sighed and headed towards the door. Time to go meet Cassandra and find out why she wanted to see her. Tyra opened the door and -

Holy philandering fuck balls that was a lot of people gathered outside where she’d been put up! Was there some kind of celebrity around? Tyra looked about suspiciously but they were all staring at her. Some were kneeling like they were praying or in reverence to someone and it made Tyra feel really uncomfortable.

She sidled up to one of the guards, glancing about when he put his closed fist over his chest and bowed his head. “Good day to you, Herald,” he said and she looked at him, even more confused and looking about for this Harold guy. “Uh, yeah,” she said not seeing who this was he was talking to. “Sorry to bother you but...Chantry?”

“Down the path, take a right at the twin Mabari statues and just head north, My Lady,” the man explained with an almost eager attitude. 

_ ‘What the fuck is a Mabari?’ _ Tyra thought as she nodded and headed in the direction she’d been told. Her eyes scanned the path ahead trying to figure out what a Mabari statue was, ultimately assuming it was the stone dog-like things leading up the pathway. During her short trek, she kept hearing people whisper to each other about the Herald of Andraste and grew confused when they seemed to be talking about her. Who the fuck was Andraste and why was she that person’s Herald?! Tyra was a summoner - well formerly a summoner. Until she was able to summon Valefor and the others, she was now just a mage of decent ability and a very low opinion on life and on people.

She slipped through the giant doors of the building and waited a moment for her eyes to adjust.

It was too dark within this place, the torches giving barely enough light to see worth a damn. Yevon take these fools and their ridiculous inability to light a room properly! Could they seriously not install some solar crystal lamps instead of the fire hazard torches?! They had to have them somewhere around here! She knew eyes would eventually adjust but the constant sharp change between the inside and outside could not be good for the overall health of a person’s vision!

Feeling even more irritated she headed further into the building, the sound of raised voices directing her to where Cassandra was having a shouting match with that guy from earlier. What was his name again? Roderick?

Tyra shrugged and entered the room.

The man from the forward camp ordered her to be put in chains and Tyra tensed, ready to kill the first one of those soldiers to touch her. Luckily though, Cassandra stopped them and had them leave. Part of her was almost disappointed: she kind of wanted to see how a thundara spell would work on these metal clad foes. Maybe another time.

She blinked, realizing she had tuned out what was going on in front of her once more.  _ Really need to stop that _ , she chided herself and watched the scene in front of her. The redhead from earlier - Leliana was it? - spoke of how there were other suspects to the Divine’s murder. How accomplices to the ones responsible for the explosion at the Conclave might still live.

Roderick was understandably disbelieving at the idea, though Tyra kept her expression stoic. If she were him, she’d probably think her being sent there by some higher power was unbelievable too. She bit back the urge to explain how it wasn’t their Maker that had sent her here, telling herself how it wasn’t really their business anyways.

Besides unless she could actually summon her Aeons once again, what proof could she give them it was some other force at work?

Cassandra proposed she work with them: to help end the chaos and seal the rifts before worse happened. “If I don’t agree, will you be keeping my clothes and Dragonhorn? Or are you actually going to give me back my things?” Tyra asked, crossing her arms over her chest. Leliana stepped forward. “Your belonging will be returned soon. My apologies for taking them. We had hoped to garner some more information on where you came from with them. They are… unique.”

Tyra cocked her head to the side, an eyebrow raised. “And because I was unconscious you decided violating my things without my permission was acceptable?” Her lips turned downward in disapproval. “Not a good way to win the trust of the person you apparently need at your side, is it?”

“True,” the redhead agreed. “But you should know it was all for naught. Our examinations proved fruitless. After we finish here, I can take you to them.”

“Well at least you apologised. I suppose that’s one thing that makes you better than most,” Tyra mused out loud. She sighed, shaking her head. There wasn’t much choice in where she could go from here. Maybe she could leave and strike out on her own, fall into her old way of life - but like Leliana said: there were people who thought she was guilty of both killing highly important people and causing that rip in the sky.

“I’ll agree with this - for now,” Tyra stated. Cassandra offered her hand and Tyra shook it after a few moments of hesitation. “However long we have you, you have our thanks,” Cassandra admitted.

But how much good would that do her?

* * *

 

Donations/chapter sponsoring can be made [here!](https://www.paypal.me/Mayamelissa)

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to give you a hint of how rough it's been for me: this chapter was finished in July.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was my own beta.

 

She hated this place.

It smelled horrible. Cramped. They had no proper plumbing. The liquor wasn’t strong enough to get her buzzed. And these people were stupid!

A good example? When she overheard some of those ‘sisters’ recite something called the Chant when Tyra had finished agreeing to assist this Inquisition.

“Magic is meant to serve man and never rule over him,” the woman had begun reciting and Tyra couldn’t help but pause to listen. Maybe she’d thought it might help her understand more about this place or maybe she’d just wanted to know where that statement was going. “Foul and corrupt are those that have taken his gift and use it against his children.”

Used it how? Used it in battle? Well that was the proper and most common time to use magic, she knew from experience. Magic was a tool. It just was something that was there, that was a part of being alive. And whose children? Tyra was confused. That made no sense. Used magic on their own children? Were these children a product of this Andraste person and thus a whole different race of people? Wait that couldn’t be it since she was supposed to be the Herald of Andraste.

“They shall be named Maleficar,” the woman continued, almost in a rapturous tone. “Accursed ones. They shall find no rest in this world. Or beyond.” Then the woman was quiet and Tyra stared at her. That was it? What was the point of repeating that out loud?! It served no purpose to say that out loud!

The Chantry sister looked at Tyra and bowed before turning and walking away. The former summoner watched her go, her lips pressed together. Had that been some kind of fucking insult? It felt like an insult. And what’s worse? It was giving her flashbacks of Yevon. “What the fuck ever,” Tyra grumbled under her breathe. Fuck Yevon and fuck Andraste. They could both suck on a fiend’s big hairy dick for all she cared.

She pulled out a piece of paper with a run down of tasks that would be quote “helpful to get her acclimated and familiar with Haven while they waited for the rest of the Council to arrive and begin planning their strategy” unquote.

She held in a grimace as her eyes scanned the piece of paper in her hands. She didn’t recognize any of the words on here and the letters were even more foreign to her eyes. Tyra remembered Leliana telling her she needed to go see the apothecary Adan, the quartermaster Threnn, and the blacksmith Harrit.

“So much for escorting me to my stuff,” she sneered as she scratched the hairline at the back of her neck. “No, just hand me a piece of paper and let me loose to play scavenger hunt? Fuck this.” She ripped the paper up in tiny bits with a sneer and let the wind take them, a twinge of satisfaction settling temporarily.

_I will not be someone’s puppet again,_ the tanned skinned woman swore. If they wanted her to do something they had to make it worth her while. And bloody well keep their promises. She needed her clothes and Dragonhorn back. These pajamas or whatever they were she was wearing pissed her off. And she was pretty damn sure they were ugly and did nothing to help her looks.

A sigh of relief came from her lungs when she found the tavern. Idle chatter mixed with sounds of clanging dishes. Slight sour scent of liquid refreshment in tankards. The aroma of food. Instant mood lift.

Heading to the counter, she came face to face with a rather flustered barkeep. The young woman named Flissa was probably quite sweet and well meaning, but Tyra needed a drink. Desperately. Flissa was obliging and would not hear of taking a payment. 

Tyra wondered how long that would last.

The ale? Watered down piss with a honey aftertaste. There was no way she was going to get even a buzz from it. And according to Flissa, supplies were rather short. “I’m sure we can find something soon, my lady Herald,” the redhead stammered.

Soon. It was always soon. Nothing ever happened when she needed it. Her mood more sour than the smell of spilt ale, Tyra left the tavern. She wandered about; ultimately locating the apothecary.

Adan was his name. He was gruff and moody but from what she gathered it was low on supplies. He also had all her potions in his possession. The man was a mass of questions , what each did, how they were brewed, when did she expect them to go bad.

“Go bad?” she asked, blinking in disbelief. Adan nodded, an expectant look on his face. “I was wondering how long I was going to be able to examine them,” he continued.

“Well if you enchant the bottles properly they won’t expire,” she scoffed. “I’ve never heard of potions expiring before.”

“You enchant the bottles?”

Oh for fuck’s sake! She stared at him with utter exasperation. “Was that a serious question?” she asked. Adan frowned at her. “Never heard of anyone enchanting the potion bottles,” he stated. He  seemed even more cranky than before.

She was definitely not in any way sober enough to deal with this Yevon forsaken place! “Well now I can see why it took me 3 days to wake up,” she cursed under her breath. Tyra took her item pouch from his table and began stuffing her belongings inside. “Mages don’t know how to make elemental nullification spells! The only alchemist around here doesn’t know he’s supposed to enchant the bottles to stop the contents from spoiling! Fuckers steal my shit and don’t have the decency to give it back.”

Adan stared at her, taken aback by her anger. “I’m sorry, Herald. I was told you knew I had them.”

“They told me they would show me where my things were,” she retorted. “Looks like we were both lied to.”

In a huff, she left the hut and Adan behind. Solas opened his mouth to speak with her as she passed by him but one look at her caused the elf to rethink that. Tyra stormed back to the cabin she had awoken in, passing by Varric. The dwarf also rethought speaking to her at the sight of the summoner’s form as she passed him.

She stormed into her cabin, the door slamming behind her. The gathered snow on the roof slid down in response. Varric had to admit, the effect was perfect.

* * *

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